


all trails lead back to you

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Chris Argent/Sheriff Stilinski/Melissa McCall, Scent Marking, happy trail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 20:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17925677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: Derek haswantedfor so long. He's a little scared when he finds out that Stileswantsin return. Maybe even something more than just want. Maybe something better.





	all trails lead back to you

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for prompt #317: Trail at Fullmoon Ficlet. I wanted to see how many times I could use the word in the fic, and not just for the happy trail thought that I started with.
> 
> March 2 2019: edited to fix a typo that somehow slipped past multiple readings. Middle spoon indeed. I mean. How?

Stiles sprawls across the couch, one foot propped on the arm at the end, the other dropped to the floor. His head rests on the opposite end, his arm flung over his head. The position makes his shirt ride up, revealing a hint of a thick happy trail that disappears under the waistband of his jeans.

Derek looks away as Stiles reaches down to idly scratch at his belly. “Why are you still here?” Derek asks.

“Rude,” Stiles says. “Just because the rest of the pack left a half hour ago and I’m still invading your space—” He cuts off when Derek lets a small growl slip free. A thunk on the ground, and when Derek turns back, Stiles is sitting on the couch, hunched over, both feet planted firmly. Stiles glances up, pushes his bangs out of his face. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll go.”

“Did I tell you to go?” Derek needs something to do with his hands, so he reaches for two bottles of water from the fridge. He doesn’t need it, but Stiles was drinking earlier, while the pack night was in full swing, and dehydration isn’t good.

Derek sits on the couch next to Stiles, cracks open one of the water bottles, and hands it to him. “Drink.”

“Yes, Mom.” Stiles tilts his head back, neck long and stretched, Adam’s apple moving as he swallows.

“Don’t call me that,” Derek mutters. He opens his own water bottle, takes a drink even though he’s not thirsty.

Stiles glances at him, amber eyes slightly hooded, a faint flush staining his pale cheeks.

Fuck.

Derek’s not thirsty for water. Maybe he should try being honest with himself.

As long as he doesn’t have to be honest out loud.

“I didn’t tell you to go,” he mumbles again, picking at the paper wrapper on the water bottle. “I asked why you hadn’t.”

Stiles’s gaze narrows. “You made it sound like I was inconveniencing you.”

Derek shrugs one shoulder, takes another drink.

“Fine.” Stiles sits back, his shirt riding up again as he slumps into the couch. “You do realize I’m the only one of the pack still living with his parents, right? Scott’s with Kira, Jackson’s with Ethan, Danny and Lydia got that apartment together, and Malia’s been crashing with them for long enough that I’m really wondering how that works. Liam, Hayden, and Mason all have a place. And I live with my parents. Who are now plural in ways that I really don’t want to think about.”

Derek’s made the mistake of walking into the Sheriff’s office unannounced. It’s not a mistake he’ll make again.

“Chris caught me before I went out and strongly suggested that I find another place to crash tonight. He used the words ‘gag’ and ‘double penetration’ and I didn’t stick around for more than that.” Stiles’s voice is tight, pained. When he tilts his head back and spreads his hands, Derek has to move so he doesn’t get hit. “Why, God? I mean, I’m happy that my dad’s happy, but honestly, Chris and Melissa? It makes living at home so awkward.”

“Scott told me about the pink bathrobe,” Derek says blandly. Which is an image he’s tried to erase from his mind, but Scott was very specific about how it was Chris in the pink lace when Scott walked into the kitchen. It’s been stuck in Derek’s head ever since, every time he has to deal with Chris.

That image has nothing on what Derek found in the Sheriff’s office, though. They’re creative, he’ll say that for them. All three of them are very creative. And highly active. And apparently like risking discovery.

Derek pats Stiles’s knee, pulling away when Stiles flails to sitting upright in surprise. “You can stay here,” Derek offers. “Besides, you were drinking. If you’re going anywhere, I should give you a ride.”

“I’m dead sober,” Stiles says.

He looks at Derek, and Derek damns the fact that Stiles has learned how to control his heartbeat in the years since they first met. He used to be able to read Stiles like a book, but not any longer.

“I’m trying to offer you crash space so you don’t have to walk in on them.” Derek does his damnedest to keep his tone even. “I’ll put towels in the bathroom down here, if you want.”

“If I want?” Stiles tilts his head, gaze narrowing as he repeats the words. “Strange way of phrasing that. I mean yes, I will want to wash up a bit tonight. And get rid of some of my clothes before I sleep. And shower tomorrow morning.”

“Fine.” Derek pushes to his feet, avoiding where Stiles’s knee knocks into his as he moves. He has to move around the coffee table, picking up his still full water bottle on the way by. There are a few plates and glasses scattered around, but nothing that can’t be left until morning.

He heads for the stairs up to the master suite. “I’ll just get the towels.”

Footsteps behind him, and when Derek reaches the upper landing, Stiles is just one step down, crowding close. Derek turns, and Stiles blocks the way back down, hands on both railings. “Why are you being weird, Derek?”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. I’ve known you for ten years now, and this is strange, even for you.” Stiles reaches toward Derek, and Derek takes a quick step back, avoiding the touch. He looks at Stiles’s hand pointedly, but Stiles doesn’t let it fall.

“So, I’ll crash on the couch?” Stiles asks, not moving from the top step.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Derek remembers when it was common for Stiles to fall asleep in the middle of a pack evening. Derek would just cover him up and leave him sleeping on the couch, while Derek went upstairs to fall asleep to the sound of Stiles’s heartbeat in his ears.

That same heart that beats perfectly steadily right now.

Derek heads into the bathroom, pulls open the linen closet to get two towels and a washcloth out. He turns back and Stiles still hasn’t moved except for setting one foot on the landing. Waiting.

“What?”

Stiles licks his lips, and Derek watches that motion, swallows hard when he sees it.

“Derek,” Stiles says softly.

He stretches then, and Derek can’t help it, his gaze dropping to where Stiles’s shirt rides up. Stiles smiles, and he grips the plaid flannel he wears of his t-shirt, yanking it off and tossing it to Derek, who catches it.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles steps onto the landing, pushes past Derek into the bedroom. “Going to bed. Where it’s comfortable.” He pauses by the bed, asks, “Coming?”

Derek can’t quite figure out how to make his feet move. “I don’t—”

Stiles sits on the edge of the bed, pats the space next to him. When Derek doesn’t take it, Stiles leans forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s been ten years since we first met in the woods, after Scott lost his inhaler,” he says. “I’ve been out of college for three years now, and the fact that I still live with my parents aside, I’m pretty much a functional adult. You and I—we’re friends, right?”

Derek nods once, clutching the towels and Stiles’s shirt tightly. He can smell Stiles clearly on it, that sweet musk that always surrounds him.

Stiles hitches himself back on the bed, sitting cross-legged. “You know I’m bi. I know you’re bi. It wasn’t our proudest moment when you bitched me out for sucking face with Danny during a pack thing, and I accused you of being homophobic.”

“I don’t like public displays of affection,” Derek mutters. He’d bitched at Scott and Kira the next week, even though they didn’t get under his skin the way Stiles and Danny did.

The way Stiles does, if he’s honest, which he rarely lets himself be, even in his own mind.

“There’s no public here,” Stiles says slowly. “And I’m sober—let me say that again, in case you’re worried about it. I stopped drinking before the second movie. Because I was kind of thinking… well, I’m just surprised you couldn’t tell how nervous I am.”

“You’re good at masking it.” It seems ridiculous to be holding a conversation from so far away, so Derek walks into the room slowly, drops the towels on the bureau. He can’t quite convince himself to go to the bed until Stiles pats the empty space beside himself again and Derek’s feet carry him there without permission. He sits cautiously on the edge of his own bed.

“Yeah, but you were always good at reading me.” Stiles closes his eyes, exhales, and there’s a rush of scent in the air. Nerves. Arousal. Worry. Pleasure. Derek doesn’t know which to taste first, or how to separate them enough to read what the mean. The sweet musk suffuses the air, surrounding all of it, and Derek knows that it’s sinking into his sheets. That he’ll smell Stiles on them when he sleeps.

“You smell like you’re sixteen again,” Derek mumbles, not sure what Stiles expects him to say.

He doesn’t expect the swift bark of laughter in response.

“That’s about how I feel,” Stiles admits. He falls backwards, arms pillowed behind his head. His shirt rides up again, and Derek’s gaze drops to the thin strip of skin revealed, that trail that leads to… oh.

Oh.

Derek touches without asking, flinching as soon as he feels skin. He starts to pull back, but Stiles grips his wrist, just enough to keep him from pulling away before Stiles lets go.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says quietly. “It’s all good.”

Derek lowers his hand again, just barely touching the hair beneath Stiles’s belly button. He trails his fingers down until he reaches the waistband of Stiles’s jeans, his boxer briefs visible just beneath. Derek stops there, not daring to go further, to slide over the denim to the hard ridge where Stiles’s thickening erection lies trapped inside his jeans.

He inhales, tasting more musk in the air, the fresh scent of Stiles all around him.

“I didn’t plan to try to seduce you tonight,” Stiles says.

Derek flinches back at the choice of words—seduction reminds him too much of his past. Of Kate. Jennifer. Even Braeden, in some ways.

Stiles winces. “Shit. Okay. Let me try that again.” He pushes up, reaching to grab the nape of Derek’s neck. Derek goes willingly, hands on either side of Stiles’s shoulders as he ends up forehead to forehead with him. Stiles gently touches his cheek, slides a thumb across his lower lip.

“I was going to ask for crash space,” Stiles says softly. “And I was going to ignore the fact that I—that I’ve wanted… that I’ve _liked_ … for so damned long. And you—I didn’t think you were interested. Until tonight. And you just looked at me. Like—”

“I wanted to touch,” Derek admits, finally honest. Finally saying those words aloud, where he has to hear them echoed back.

Where Stiles can hear them, and smile so fucking brightly in response.

“I want to touch, too,” Stile whispers. He tugs and Derek willingly lowers his head, presses down to kiss him with a brief meeting of lips and tongues. Tasting, for the first time, and knowing that Stiles tastes even more brilliant than he smells.

Stiles inches backwards, squiggling on the bed and refusing to let go of Derek. By the time he finds his place, Derek is kneeling over him, half-stretched out, his cock hard in his jeans where he straddles Stiles’s thigh. Stiles twitches his hips up, groaning when Derek finally breaks the kiss and pulls back.

Derek sits back on his heels, reaches for Stiles’s fly, pausing with his fingers on the button. He sits there, fingers barely brushing against the fabric and waits.

Stiles shifts, pressing up into that touch. “Do you want an invitation?”

Derek licks his lips. “This is—” He cuts off, swallows past the lump in his throat. “Yeah. I think I need that invitation. I need to know what—”

It would be so easy to take what’s on offer without question. To taste and touch and indulge without thinking about what comes next. But this is Stiles and after ten years, Derek doesn’t want to risk breaking this friendship.

“Mm.” Stiles wriggles, tries to get his hands on the hem of his t-shirt. Derek ends up helping him get it off, then willingly pulling his own over his head so they’re both bare chested.

Stiles rests his fingers against Derek’s chest, just over his heart. “I can feel it, you know,” he says. “How fast it’s going. How nervous you are, just like me. I think we—I think we’ve had this coming for a long time. You were jealous when I was with Danny.”

Derek’s cheeks are warm as he nods.

“And that guy—God, I don’t even remember his name—you were out with him once and we saw you at the diner.” Stiles presses his hand flat against Derek’s skin, fingertips curled slightly to press against him. “I hated him as soon as I realized what was going on. That it was a date. That you weren’t just saying you were bi, you were actually out there. Dating. And it… it wasn’t me.”

Stiles slides his hands down Derek’s back, grips his ass until Derek settles in close to Stiles, rubbing against him. “For the record,” Stiles murmurs. “It’s always been you. I mean yes, I was in love with Lydia, and I dated after that, but since I met you. It’s pretty much always come back to you. So if you want this to be just—” He lifts his hips, pressing against Derek instead of using his words. “I’m good with that. Or if we want it to be—” He leans up, lightly touches his lips to Derek. “I’d like that too. Because Derek, I would date the fuck out of you.”

Fuck.

“Yes.” Derek whispers the words into a kiss to the forehead, then whispers it again for good measure as he trails kisses down Stiles’s jaw to his throat. He presses it into his skin over and over again. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

They work together to get their jeans off. Stiles gets distracted as soon as Derek opens his fly. Stiles pushes his jeans halfway off, then tries to fold in half, failing to kiss Derek’s cock through his underwear.

“It can wait,” Derek assures him, pressing him back while he manages to squirm out of his jeans.

“Fuck, no, it can’t,” Stiles whines, but then they’re both naked and nothing else really matters anymore.

Derek stretches over Stiles, using his knees and elbows to keep from putting his entire weight on him. They touch at so many points from chest to groin down the the way Derek’s legs lie tangled with Stiles. When Stiles shifts his hips, his cock drags along Derek’s and Derek groans into his mouth, kissing him deeply.

Stiles grips Derek’s ass, holding him close, and Derek has no need to rush anything, kissing him deeply, devouring his taste. Derek moves from mouth to throat, painting rough red marks across pale skin. When Stiles tries to pin him in place to do the same, Derek lets him, growling softly as he feels Stiles’s blunt teeth nip at him.

He catches the shift in scent moments before Stiles shudders beneath him, crying out softly before the spurt of thick fluid between them. There’s a primal twist in Derek’s gut, and he presses closer, his thighs tight as the orgasm flows through him, his body jerking when he comes.

It’s sticky, and warm, and it smells like them, rubbed into their skin, between them.

Stiles exhales, going boneless beneath Derek. “Fuck.”

“Eventually. Someday.” Derek rolls to the side, stretches out next to him. He idly trails his fingers through the mess, drawing lines on Stiles’s abdomen. When Stiles traps his hand, Derek smirks. He tugs and waits for Stiles to look at him before he lifts his hand to his mouth, licks his fingers clean.

“You are going to kill me,” Stiles mumbles as he stares, slightly open-mouthed. “You are going to suck my brains out through my dick.”

“I’d be happy to try, as long as—” Derek cuts off, because that was sex.

That was… absolutely unplanned, and probably not a good idea, and very definitely sex.

“No regrets,” Stiles murmurs. He reaches for Derek, wrestles him until they’re lying sideways with Stiles as the little spoon and Derek wrapped behind him. Stiles wiggles his ass back against Derek’s soft and sticky cock. “This is going to be uncomfortable in the morning but I’m willing to let it go this time,” Stiles says quietly. “And in the morning, we’ll take a nice hot shower to get clean, then get sticky again, and we’ll talk about getting out for some of that dating thing. Because we are dating, Derek. This is going to be awesome—you and me—and not just the sex. I need to get around to showing you just how much I love you. It might take a while. Be prepared to settle in for a long courtship.”

Stiles’s breath is slow and even between the words, and Derek’s not even sure Stiles is awake and aware of what he’s saying.

He’s not sure it matters, since he’s saying everything Derek needs to hear.

Derek presses his lips to the nape of Stiles’s neck, closes his eyes so that he can hear and feel Stiles breathe. Stiles holds Derek’s hand tucked against his chest, and Derek feels the low thump thump of his heart, steady beneath his touch.

“I’m prepared,” Derek murmurs. “I’m here for whatever you want to show me. I’ve already loved you for so long. I never thought you’d love me back.”

It’s quiet for a long time after that, just the sound of their breath syncing in slow rhythm. Stiles makes a low noise, but it trails off without resolving into something coherent. Derek hovers on the edge of sleep, reveling in the feeling of Stiles in his arms. He’s just about to slip over the edge when he hears a low murmur of, “Good….”

He smiles against Stiles’s shoulder, because yes. Good. Even better than good. He whispers, “Perfect,” and then lets himself rest.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr as [tryslora](http://tryslora.tumblr.com). If you prefer a different social media platform (Pillowfort, Twitter, etc.) I'm always the same name. 
> 
> If you like my fic, you might like my original work, too! Check out [Welcome to PHU](http://welcometophu.tumblr.com) for free serialized books and short stories about college, magic, shapeshifters, and more.


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